Friday, November 15, 2013


I've been gifted another opportunity to support and encourage a friend. Being invited into these moments, a most intense, intimate, and special experience, I am deeply moved and humbled. 

With most inspiring experiences in my life, I write:

I am waiting for you.

I am preparing for you.

Along with your mama,

I am awaiting you.

I'm moving my body in a slow sway.

I walk, and flow in a rhythm.

Gently inviting my instinct to guide me,

And respectfully asking my mind to quiet.

I am waiting for you.

Whispers of conversations between your mama and me,

Some not even audible.

A quiet connection.

A primal energy.

I am waiting for you.

Slowing my thoughts.

Nourishing my body and soul.

Listening carefully to my needs,

So when called,

I can meet the needs of three others, with love and gratitude.

I am waiting for you.

I can feel the shift.

The energy is changing - 

From nerves to trust.

My heart is open.

My mind is quiet. 

I am waiting for you.

I am waiting to walk with your mama. 

I am waiting to nurture your mama.

I am waiting to hold your mama.

I am waiting to encourage your mama.

I am waiting for you.

And I am waiting to protect your space,

Your time,

Your energy,

Your rhythm,

Your trust,

As you make your way


My energy tools, aka - baby mojo.

Monday, November 4, 2013

Breath Deep and Be Not Afraid

I can always lean into those HUGE questions - life questions, purpose questions, spirit questions - when I am surrounded by Nature.

Almost as if Mother Nature is holding me while my heart and mind break open, seeking some clarity, reassurance, beauty, and peace.
I really don't have the vocabulary needed to accurately describe the sense of freedom, and calm, and confidence, that I gathered yesterday. 

And, in truth, I didn't even know I was needing such calm and confidence.

But walking along the gravel paths that meander through our State's Arboretum, the flood of peace and contentment rushed forward. 

I did alot of deep breathing.

I went quiet.

And I, without apology, took pictures.

The best I can do is share the experience through these...

This wheat grass made me pause - its golden hue up again the blue sky.

When I turned to see this tree, all I could hear was this:

'How can you be afraid, when you are surrounded by this. This beauty. This rhythm. This life.' 

I'm still debating if this was the voice of my mind, or my soul.

And in these moments, he granted me a sweet little kiss - documented. Our rough edges being weathered by our years together.


Friday, November 1, 2013

You Have Permission

To the family sharing space with us, the other day at the dentist, my heart broke for all of you. 

As you held down your children, as they screamed and fought to sit up, my heart broke for you.

As you spoke angrily at them, as if they were the trouble, while smiling and commiserating with the hygenist, my heart broke for you.

You were outwardly angry & impatient, yet your energy was sad & embarrased. My heart broke for you.

I've been there. I've been in a situation - watching, doing, responding - when nothing felt right. It feels wrong. All wrong. On many levels. 

So, as I watched your struggle, and the struggle of your children, my heart broke...for you, and for me. For in my judgment of you, I felt the judgment against myself. I've been in your shoes...responding as a parent, but responding in a way that is totally wrong for my child(ren.) 

And then one day, I can't recall when, I heard a voice in my head saying 'You have permission.'

You have permission to say no.

You have permission to take a break.


You have permission to question.


You have permission to walk away.

You have permission to stop, take a breath, take a walk, STOP - if it will help your child feel safe, comfortable, and respected.

To the parents that shared space with me, the other day at the dental office, I whisper encouraging PERMISSION to respect your children, and their fears, and their boundaries, and their light. 

It's ok. Really. If you are doing something, and internally you want to puke because it feels so awful and wrong, than stop. Please. Just stop. And hold your children until you both feel better. 

Here's an excerpt from a letter I wrote six months ago to this same dentist, regarding one of their techs. Just an example of how you can speak up and OUT for your children...and the next child.
  I was in most recently on Monday of this week with my youngest children, O and D. O needed alot of encouragement as he was very shy and anxious. I do not remember the name of the hygienist that was assigned to him that day, though she was familiar and I think we've had her before. She was quite nice to him, and always spoke in that happy, sing-song voice that you seem to think puts children at ease. However, as he continued to struggle with the appointment (a simple cleaning, but he is only four, and this was only his second time there,) the tech began to use language that felt demeaning. Statements like – ‘Oh. You don’t want to be a baby. You don’t want to cry. You’re a big boy right? Only babies suck their fingers. Only babies cry when they get their teeth cleaned.’ – and when talking to his sister, since she was already finished with her appointment, quote – ‘I heard you were really good at your appointment. See, O, you want to be just like your sister don’t you, you aren’t a baby, are you? I always knew girls were smarter…’ (D is a girl, and O’s twin sister.)
 Although I can understand what the tech was trying to accomplish, I regret allowing it to continue as long as I did. Quite honestly, I regret not immediately STOPPING the cleaning and respecting O’s wishes for some space. I think I was in a state of shock. I did soon stop the cleaning, and acknowledged his worry, and his valiant attempt at getting through the procedure. I found the tech’s use of language demeaning, and unacceptable, and sad, for O. In my family, we celebrate babies, and we’ve taught our children that a crying child is nothing to resent, but someone in need of help, love, and encouragement. I felt the tech was trying to ‘guilt’ or embarrass O into a less-stressful emotional state….less stressful for her, perhaps, but at the cost of my son’s natural inclination to communicate his emotions of fear and anger. He was fearful to begin the appointment, and became angry as he was being made fun-of by the person trying to persuade him. Fear is the birthplace of anger. He is such a smart boy…I’m confident that, as an adult, this tech wouldn’t stand for a person invading her personal space, all the while being ridiculed.
 I hope these criticisms are taken with gratitude, and as an opportunity for some positive-language/language-sensitivity education, and perhaps re-evaluation of how children are sometimes treated in the office. As stated in the beginning, I have had very good care in the past. And my other anxious child had a very patient tech when we were in two weeks ago. And O was seen by Dr. R and she was most patient with him…even when he bit the mirror and cracked the plastic.
I plan to write another letter, encouraging more training for staff on how to encourage parents to stop, and take a breath, and respond to their children with empathy and patience. It would have been beautiful to hear the tech say, 'This young guy needs a break. I'm not comfortable with this cleaning, if it requires force to hold him down.' 

Sometimes we just need to hear it.
'It's ok. You have permission.'

You. Have. Permission.